


my kingdom for a horse

by hardlygolden



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin make their way back to Camelot - on foot. Because <i>someone</i> lost their horse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my kingdom for a horse

Arthur kept striding onward, with no sign of slowing down. “_Do _try to keep up, Merlin,” he said, and his voice cracked, just a little, just enough for Merlin to know that Arthur was more upset about this than he was letting on.

Merlin stifled a sigh and clumsily jogged to keep up.

“We should be back at Camelot by this time tomorrow,” he said, trying to fill the silence.

Arthur didn’t say anything, just increased his speed. Merlin made sure his sigh was audible this time, and Arthur slowed his pace. Marginally.

“My father was counting on me to take care of this,” Arthur said presently. “And instead, I am returning on foot. Which means not only have we failed to recover one of Camelot’s treasures from a renegade band of bandits, but somehow you managed to lose my horse.”

“At least you still have your princely good looks,” Merlin said, and ducked when Arthur swung a fist, so the blow merely glanced off his shoulder. It still smarted, and he rubbed it, grinning at Arthur all the while. “Ouch.”

Arthur frowned back at him. “Why are favouring your right side, Merlin?”

“I’m not,” Merlin retorted automatically.

“You _are_,” Arthur insisted. He’d stopped walking now, but Merlin couldn’t find it in himself to be thankful for the reprieve, not when suddenly all Arthur’s cool intensity was focused on _him._

“I’m fine, really,” Merlin protested, even as Arthur pulled at his sleeve and saw the bloodied cloth Merlin had clumsily wrapped around his arm.

“_Merlin.” _Arthur said, and Merlin winced. Trust Arthur to make it sound like this was somehow Merlin’s doing. Arthur glared at him. “You should have said something.”

“Oh yeah,” Merlin said. “That’s right, getting injured is totally mu fault. Because I go wandering in search of bandits _for fun._ Oh, sorry, no, that’s something only knights and _crazy people _do. Sire.”

Then Merlin saw the look on Arthur’s face, and realised this represented one more failure.

“Hey,” he said. “Arthur. I’m sorry, really.”

Arthur shook his head. “No,” he said, in an oddly formal tone, one that Merlin had heard him use in one of Uther’s interminable negotiations with a potentially hostile kingdom.  He had never used that tone with Merlin before, guarded and hesitant. “It’s not fair to keep putting you in these situations when you haven’t had the training. It’s not _safe.”_

Merlin paused for a moment, trying to decide the best way to handle a prince who violently resisted being handled. “I understand, sire,” he said, and Arthur’s shoulders sagged in something like defeat. “It’s not fair to you, for me to take the place of a knight who could properly watch your back.”

“I don’t need a minder,” Arthur protested in indignant outrage. “I am not some maiden who needs an escort. I can watch my own back.”

“Then allow me the courtesy of doing the same,” Merlin snapped. “_Sire.”_

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, and then bit back an exclamation of surprise. Merlin turned to see what had caught his eye, and then his face split open in a grin.

Destrier was galloping towards them, and Arthur’s expression was all relief. As Arthur reached out a hand to smooth Destrier’s mane, murmuring soft words of reassurance, Merlin rifled through the pouch attached to the bridle, pulling out a ring that glinted in the sunlight.

He amused himself by tossing it up in the air and catching it. The catching part, as it so happened, required a certain level of finesse, and he was fumbling around in the grass for the ring when Arthur turned around and levelled a glare at him.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “what on _earth _are you doing?_” _and in answer Merlin opened up his hand to reveal the gleaming metal, and Arthur’s approving smile was brighter still.

*

“Were you ever going to tell me you had a plan, hare-brained as it was?” Arthur complained.

“I would have,” Merlin said. “Except for how you were acting like such a spoiled prat. I thought I’d let you get the whole sulking-about- losing-your-noble-steed out of your system first,” Merlin said.

“Very generous of you,” Arthur said stiffly. “Where was I, anyway?”

“You were halfway done reminiscing about the first tournament you and Destrier ever entered together,” said Merlin.

Arthur threw one arm around Merlin, and the other around Destrier’s broad neck. “Ah, yes,” he said. “It’s a good story, Merlin, so I think it only right that I start from the beginning. It was a warm summer’s day...”


End file.
